


Drastic Measures

by RocknVaughn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Merlin, Character Death Fix, Episode: s05e13 The Diamond of the Day, Fix-It, Gen, Magic Revealed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RocknVaughn/pseuds/RocknVaughn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin knew they were running out of time. Merlin could feel Arthur’s life slipping away like sand through his fingers. If he didn’t do something drastic now, Merlin knew that, in a matter of hours, Arthur would be dead.</p><p>And, prophecies be damned, Merlin was NOT going to let that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story started out as a nice little drabble for this week's Camelot Drabble prompt (#42 ~ Hunk du Jour) and morphed into this!

-o-o-

“I don’t want you to change. I want you to _always_ be you…” Arthur had murmured, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

Merlin rubbed a hand against his chest, feeling a comforting ache in his heart as the words replayed over and over in his mind. Arthur had accepted him and his magic at last…something that had frankly seemed impossible yesterday morning when they’d left on this quest to save Arthur’s life.

But now, Merlin knew, they were running out of time. Merlin could feel Arthur’s life slipping away like sand through his fingers. If he didn’t do something drastic now, in a matter of hours, Arthur would be dead.

And, prophecies be damned, Merlin was _not_ going to let that happen.

Looking back at Arthur’s slumped and slumbering form, resolve firmed in Merlin’s mind. He stalked away through the underbrush, careful to set a shielding charm around Arthur to protect him while he was gone.

As Merlin walked, he searched out in all directions with his mind, trying to find a field, a plain…any open area large enough to accommodate a dragon…but there were none for many miles.

But Merlin was not to be denied, not in this most important of tasks. Closing his eyes and opening his mind, Merlin dug his magic deep into the earth, using the ancient power beneath his feet to bolster his spell, “ ** _Ic bebeodan wudutreow astyrian ac stan brosnian, grunde alecgan ac gærs aweaxan! Gehieran me, ðy wit sie an!_** ”*

He felt the magic leave him in waves, undulating and twisting all around him, until the evening air fairly hummed with it. Merlin raised his arms higher and higher until, with a mighty flash, the power left him and he sank to the earth, boneless from the sudden exhaustion that overwhelmed him.

It only took Merlin a moment to realize that his cheek laid not on branches, leaves and rock, but soft, dew-filled grass. Opening his eyes, he stared back at the sky, wide open and starry above him instead of crisscrossed with the branches of a forest.

With a sudden renewed vigor, Merlin rolled to his feet and sprinted back to the campsite.

Gently, Merlin patted Arthur’s face. “Arthur, Arthur…” Merlin repeated until, finally, Arthur opened his eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin said again, bending down to ensure he made eye contact with his friend, “do you trust me?”

Arthur swallowed as if he could not quite remember how to make his mouth move, but then he mumbled, “You know I do, Merlin.”

“Good,” Merlin teased as he hoisted Arthur up to his feet and wrapped his friend’s arm over his own slighter shoulders, “remember you said that in a few minutes…”

Merlin helped Arthur into the saddle and then led both the king’s and his horses through the underbrush until they reached the clearing that Merlin had made. 

“Just remember that I can control them, Arthur. You will be in no danger; I promise,” Merlin vowed.

Arthur hunched and listed in the saddle, but he still gripped the horse’s reins tightly. “In danger from _what_?”

“The dragons,” Merlin responded awkwardly.

“Dragons, plural. As in more than one of them?” Arthur raised his voice in stunned disbelief.

Merlin nodded. “It’ll be all right, Arthur. You’ll see.”

The nonplussed and doubtful look Arthur gave Merlin in return almost set him laughing out loud, but no…there was no time for mirth. Instead, he tilted his face toward the moon and bellowed, “ ** _O Kilgharrah, O Aithusa, e mala soi ftengometh tesd'hup anankes!_** ”

As Merlin’s dragon voice echoed and died, Arthur looked from Merlin to the sky and back again. “What happens now?” he asked curiously.

Merlin shrugged. “Now, we wait. It shouldn’t take too long.”

“So, there are two of them…dragons,” Arthur clarified weakly. “How are there two of them?”

Sheepishly, Merlin rubbed at the back of his neck. “Well…um…”

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh as he pieced the truth together on his own. “I never killed the Great Dragon, did I? You told me I’d killed it!”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly tell you the truth then, now could I? How exactly was I to explain that I was a dragonlord when Balinor was supposed to be the last one?”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me about the magic, Merlin, but you _could_ have told me about being a dragonlord, at least,” Arthur groused disgruntledly. “It would have saved us the trouble of going to look for the other one.”

“But, I _wasn’t_ one _then_ ,” Merlin said. “I didn’t become one until after Balinor died.”

Arthur stared at Merlin in bleary confusion. “I…don’t understand. Why?”

Behind them, the ground shook, startling them both. An aged voice rumbled in reply, “Because a dragonlord’s gift passes from father to son upon his death, young Pendragon.”

Startled, Arthur looked up to see the Great Dragon hovering over them and flinched in spite of himself before he realized that... _Wait_ … “You can _talk_?”

“Of course!” Kilgharrah sniffed, as if insulted. “I am not some beast of burden like your horse.”

Arthur turned to look at Merlin incredulously as another thought hit him. “Balinor was your _father!_? Why didn’t you tell me, Merlin? _Gods_ …” Arthur rubbed a gloved hand over his eyes in a sign of empathetic grief.

Walking over to Arthur, Merlin patted him on the shoulder, trying to tell his friend without words that he held nothing against him, that all was well.

Merlin cleared his throat self-consciously as he walked back toward Kilgharrah. “Actually, I need your help.” Merlin chanced another look over his shoulder at Arthur and was horrified at how pale the king had become. “We need to reach the island at the center of the lake of Avalon before daybreak.”

“Merlin,” the Great Dragon cautioned, “it is still a long way off, and there is little time. I do not think that…”

“I know,” Merlin cut Kilgharrah off, not wanting Arthur to hear. “That’s what Aithusa is for.”

“Do you really think she would help you now that she has aligned herself with the _witch_?” Kilgharrah’s voice was bitter.

Merlin’s face was equally grim. “As the dragonlord who birthed her, I have hope that she will honor my request. But if I must, I will bend her to my will. She created the problem; now she will help fix it.”

“How will M-morgana’s d-dragon help any-t-thing?” Arthur interjected quietly, his words becoming slightly slurred.

“White dragons are renowned for their healing powers,” Kilgharrah explained patiently.

“So…it can h-heal m-me?” Arthur asked, his eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion.

“No,” Merlin replied sadly, “Aithusa can’t make you well again, Arthur. Only the Sidhe’s magic at the heart of Avalon can do that. But she _can_ restore some of your health; give us more time.”

The flap of great wings filled the air and the trio watched as the scrawny greyish dragon fluttered into the clearing and landed a bit clumsily at the far end. Warily, the little dragon eyed the three of them and did not move.

“Aithusa, come,” Merlin called, putting out a hand as one would for a dog to sniff. Slowly, the dragon shuffled closer, as if afraid, unsure of its welcome. Once she was within touching distance, Merlin softly rubbed his hand along the scales on Aithusa’s snout.

“I am sorry, little one,” Merlin soothed with both touch and voice. “I never meant for this tragedy to befall you. Had I known where to find you, I would have come. I would have saved you.”

Aithusa snuffled and croaked, nudging her head against Merlin’s side, seeking his comfort.

“And I’m sorry I had to send you away,” he continued. “but I could not let you hurt Arthur. Arthur is my friend.”

Aithusa lifted her head and stared at the dying king and bowed her head, as if in remorse.

“I know Morgana has been your friend, that she’s been loyal to you…and you want to be her friend, too,” Merlin said softly. “I can imagine what she has told you about Arthur, but she is wrong about him. Look, here he is, with two dragons and a warlock. He is not angry and not afraid of us. He does not wish to harm us. He accepts us.”

Merlin paused to let that sink in. “But a wound from the sword you burnished is killing my friend. So, I am asking you to do the right thing, Aithusa. Help me to help him. Please.”

Aithusa cast her rheumy gaze first on Arthur, then on Kilgharrah, before looking at Merlin and nodding meekly.

Merlin let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and leaned his forehead against Aithusa’s snout. “Thank you…” he breathed, stroking the scales on the side of her head fondly.

Under the dragons’ watchful gazes, Merlin stumbled back toward the edge of the clearing where the horses stood silently. Carefully, Merlin reached up and put his arms beneath both of Arthur’s armpits and slid him gingerly from the saddle.

Immediately, Arthur’s knees buckled under the strain of his own weight and Merlin grunted as he half-carried, half-dragged his friend to the little dragon. Arthur, only just this side of conscious, stared guilelessly up at the deformed creature and met the dragon’s eyes for a long moment before his eyelids slid closed in a universal sign of trust.

Aithusa snuffled at Arthur’s chest and then whined when she smelled the tinny odor of blood and felt the twinge of her own magic in the man’s breast. Then, taking a deep breath, she breathed onto Arthur’s dying body. The white light of her healing magic engulfed the king’s unmoving form for several moments before Arthur’s chest jerked upward as if on a string. He gasped a deep, cleansing breath and then blinked his eyes open slowly.

As he started to push himself up on one elbow, Aithusa scuffled backward, as if afraid Arthur would hit her. Instead, Arthur pushed up onto a second elbow as a healthier, ruddier glow filled his cheeks again. He sat up and rubbed experimentally at his chest, grimacing a little, but finding the unbearable pressure there had eased somewhat. Merlin rushed forward to help Arthur up, but he waved his friend off, wanting to do it himself.

Arthur pushed to a slightly unsteady stand and tentatively put a hand out toward the white dragon. After a long moment where the two simply studied one another, Aithusa shuffled forward to nudge her snout just under Arthur’s hand. “Thank you,” he said to her, rubbing his hand along the slippery-smooth scales between the creature’s eyes. Aithusa made a sound that was as close to purring as Merlin ever thought a dragon could make.

Merlin walked forward and placed his hand on Aithusa’s neck. “Aithusa, I cannot let you attack Arthur or his knights again. They are my friends and I will not see them hurt. I do not wish to order you, but I will if I must. Do you understand?”

Aithusa nodded her head dutifully.

Nodding to Kilgharrah, Merlin said, “Isn’t there anything you can do to help Aithusa? Cannot dragons be healed by other dragons?”

Kilgharrah eyed Aithusa warily. “Are you sure that’s what you want, young warlock?”

But Merlin was through with punishing others for their bad choices when he’d made so many of his own. Aithusa was just a baby, and Morgana had been kind to her. How could she have known that she was being led astray? “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then stand back,” Kilgharrah cautioned, and both Merlin and Arthur stood aside. Moments later, Kilgharrah’s breath shone golden and bathed the smaller dragon. As they watched, her scales went from dingy grey to startling white, her wings became full and whole, her gimpy leg healed. Her body twisted, deformed body straightened, filled in, and became long and graceful.

Merlin felt tears prick his eyes at Aithusa’s restored beauty. Even Arthur gasped in an awed breath as Kilgharrah’s healing breath ended and Aithusa leapt joyfully into the sky, moonlight bouncing off her scales, making her glow. She flew a few loops over their heads before touching back down on earth, as soft as a feather. She padded up to Merlin and bowed her head low before him.

“Thank you, Father,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper at having been so untried. “I shall not forget your kindness. I shan’t!”

And then Aithusa took off at a run and flew out into the clear, cool night, whole at last.


	2. Chapter 2

-o-o-

The moment Aithusa was lost beyond the tree line, Merlin turned to Arthur. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Arthur responded. “Not fantastic, but better.”

“Good,” Merlin nodded, before his eyes lit up mischievously, “Because I’d much rather you remember your first ever ride on a dragon’s back…”

Arthur’s eyes goggled. “What?” He looked nervously between Kilgharrah and Merlin. “Uh, no…Can’t we just use the horses now that we have more time?”

“No,” Merlin nixed emphatically. “We don’t know how long Aithusa’s cure will last. I’m not going to take that chance if I have a way to get you there faster…”    

“But…”

“Trust me, young Pendragon, I look forward to it even less than you,” Kilgharrah interrupted, “but Merlin is right. Aithusa has reopened the window of opportunity for you to avoid your fate, but we do not know for how much longer. Best not to look a gift dragon in the mouth.”

With that, Kilgharrah lowered his neck to the ground with an air of resignation. “The things I do for you, young warlock…” he muttered.

“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin said, slinging his pack around his shoulders and then helping his friend climb up and onto the Great Dragon’s back.

As Merlin slid into place behind Arthur, he wrapped one arm around his waist to secure him while the other grabbed onto one of Kilgharrah’s horns in front of them.

There was a slight tremble in Arthur’s voice as he asked tentatively, “Uh, Merlin…Are you sure about this?”

Merlin chuckled in Arthur’s ear. “Yes, Arthur. I’ve done it before. Just wait…it’s brilliant!”

And then suddenly, Kilgharrah leapt into the air, a move that Arthur petulantly felt was meant to dislodge him. Unsteadily, he cried, “Whoa!” wrapping one hand around a horn like Merlin had while clasping his friend’s thigh in a vice-like grip with the other.

In response, he felt Merlin’s arm tighten around his chest. “It’s all right; I’ve got you.”

Up, up, up they flew into the starry night while Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his thighs around the dragon’s neck. Only the sound of Merlin’s comforting breath in his ear kept Arthur from panicking. He was riding a bloody dragon…a _dragon_! Arthur couldn’t even wrap his mind around the thought.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, nudging his friend in the back. “Look, look!”

At Merlin’s urging, Arthur opened his eyes…and gasped. White light from the full moon bathed everything with an almost ethereal glow. Entire forests appeared the size of tiny grass tufts, lakes looked like gleaming puddles, and huge spired castles were no more than anthills from this height. It was…it was _amazing_!

“Oh!” Arthur gaped in wonder.  

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Merlin’s voice trembled with the same excitement Arthur felt.

“Yeah…it is,” Arthur admitted, suddenly finding the wind blowing his hair back exhilarating.

“And look!” Merlin’s hand let go of the dragon’s horn to point over Arthur’s shoulder at a lone spire reaching toward the sky, the lone building on an island in the middle of a huge lake. “That’s where we’re going…Avalon.”

Arthur stared at the mystical lake, which somehow seemed to glow more than the area surrounding it, as if it had its own light bursting out from its depths. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. Curiously, he wondered why he felt such a _pull_ toward the place.

Moments later, the island was below them, looming larger and larger as the dragon circled lower on each pass. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the journey was over. The Great Dragon had landed on the shore of the island, laying his neck down to allow his passengers to slide off.

Merlin got down first, and then braced himself to catch Arthur’s waist halfway through his descent to keep the ground from jarring his injury. Without a word, Kilgharrah bowed his head to Merlin and flew away.

“Merlin…” said a familiar voice behind him, and Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. Even after all this time, her voice was one he could never forget.

“Freya…” he breathed as he turned toward the sound. She was resplendent, more beautiful than Merlin had ever seen her: Her brown hair now fell in luscious curls, her deep brown eyes warm and welcoming; her diaphanous purple gown flowed in the breeze. She almost seemed to float as she walked toward them.

She stopped a few steps in front of them and curtseyed politely. “And, King Arthur Pendragon…A pleasure. I am the Lady of the Lake.”

Arthur had to reach out a hand to grasp Merlin’s arm. He felt curiously lightheaded at the overwhelming wash of déjà vu. “Do I… _know_ you?”

Freya nodded gracefully. “Just once, in life, did we meet, young King. But I do not expect you to remember.”

“But you know _Merlin_ …” Arthur prompted.

“Yes…” the Lady trailed off, casting an affectionate smile Merlin’s way. “He was my first love…and I his.”

 At this news, Arthur’s eyes widened in shock. Merlin had known love? When had he _ever_ known his manservant to have a girlfriend, much less a _love_?

But then, it was if all the puzzle pieces suddenly slotted into place. He could picture her, not like she was now, but then, dressed in tattered rags, cornered, terrified, begging for mercy…he remembered as her cries became inhuman roars, as she transformed into a huge winged cat.

“You…you were the Bastet!” Arthur breathed, and the Lady nodded, compassion filling her face.

Suddenly other memories crowded Arthur’s vision: hearing of the Druid girl’s escape, Merlin’s strange behavior, stealing his food. Merlin with the dress…how he’d teased him about it. Freya’s dress… _Morgana’s_ dress! How Merlin had gone missing the morning after they’d attacked the creature, and how despondent he’d seemed upon his return.

Arthur’s knees gave out and he sank down to the ground, although Merlin was there to catch him before he could truly fall over. “Arthur!” Merlin’s voice, terrified, filled his ears, pushing back the rushing sounds and blackening vision.

Tipping his head up to meet Merlin’s eyes, Arthur blinked back tears. “You…loved her; and I killed her! How could you…? How can you…? Why don’t you hate me?”

Merlin grasped Arthur by each bicep and shook him. “It wasn’t your fault, Arthur…you didn’t know. You were just trying to protect your people; I knew that.”

“But it couldn’t have made it hurt any less…”

Merlin nodded once in acquiescence. “No, it didn’t. But you didn’t do it on purpose; you never meant to hurt me. I knew it then and I know it now.” He pulled Arthur back to his feet, keeping his arm slung across his friend’s shoulder in comfort.

“Merlin,” Freya said, her eyes connecting with his for a long moment. “I have come to warn you. The Sidhe elders are angry, furious that you have brought a mortal man to their island.”

“He is dying,” Merlin replied, businesslike and stern. “I need their help to save him.”

“I do not think that they will listen…”

“Then I will _make_ them listen,” Merlin interrupted, determination filling his voice and features.

Freya nodded once. “If you are sure, then I will take you. Come.” She led them up the hill toward the Tor, Merlin and Arthur in step behind her. 

 

-o-o-

 

The Sidhe’s spire was much more intimidating up close, Arthur thought, as his palms started sweating. The Sidhe didn’t want him here…the Sidhe weren’t going to help him…

Freya stepped aside as they reached the door. “Good luck,” she wished them both.

Just before they crossed the threshold into the tower, Merlin turned to him and they locked eyes. “Please, Arthur…unless you’re spoken to, let me do the talking, all right? There is much more at stake here than you know.”

Arthur didn’t doubt that. He nodded solemnly…and then they were inside.

Arthur blinked, once, twice, three times…but what he saw did not go away. Even though they were inside, they were not. Before him, a sprawling meadow lay, ringed at its edge by a primordial forest, made up of trees with colored leaves and bark that he’d never seen before. In the center of it all was a dais made of glowing gossamer, raised up from the middle of a gurgling spring, flowing and waving in the breeze that should not exist. Three blue and gold thrones sat atop the dais, empty. Flitting all around them were shining, winged creatures that Arthur had believed until that moment were only real in children’s stories: pixies, sprites, nymphs…and of course sidhe.

Three of the glowing mass of wings split from their brethren, grew in shape, size and form, and settled themselves upon the thrones.

“What business do you have here, Warlock? Why do you disturb the home of the Sidhe?” The Sidhe in the middle chair demanded of Merlin. “You do not belong here.” The Sidhe Elder turned his head to assess Arthur for a moment before flicking his eyes away in a clear sign of dismissal. “ _Either_ of you.”

Merlin straightened his spine and thrust his shoulders back. He refused to be cowed by these fierce creatures. “I have been informed that the Sidhe have the power to heal the King’s mortal wound,” he explained, his voice both a supplication and a demand.

The Sidhe Elder bared his teeth in a barely concealed sign of aggression. “And why should we bother interfering with the lives of _men_ …” The last word was spit out as if it left a rancid taste in the fairy’s mouth.

“It is not merely for the lives of men, and you know it. You must be aware of the prophecy,” Merlin said in a voice that brimmed with warning just under the surface.

The sheer authority in his voice made Arthur shiver and wonder, _What prophecy?_

As if in answer, the fairy replied with his voice full of sarcasm, “Ah yes…the Emrys and the Once and Future King. Two sides of the same coin; destined to bring about a united Albion and the freedom of magic… And you claim to be the Emrys, do you?”

“I have no need to claim it; I _am_ it.”

The Sidhe Elder snorted his disbelief. “Are you? Let’s test that theory, shall we?” And before either of them could react, the fairy turned his staff upon Merlin. A bolt of blue light shot from the crystal atop the staff, striking Merlin square in the chest, throwing him several feet backward. He landed in a crumpled heap, unmoving.

Shock and horror washed over Arthur, quickly making way for blind anger. Stalking toward the dais, he demanded as imperiously as only a king could, “What the hell have you done?”

The Elder bared his teeth at Arthur. “Stand down, mortal, or you will be next…”

**Author's Note:**

> * Spell translation: I command the trees of the forest to move and the stones to crumble, the ground to lie down and the grass to grow. Listen to me, for we two are as one.


End file.
